Heroes Can Be Made
by Purple Lex
Summary: Or, "I'm Not Saying You're A Hero, But You Aren't Any Super Villain" Megamind AU: Mercy City has been the peaceful battleground for Mercy Man & Sylar for 3 decades. It could be a lot worse. Sylar never wins or kills and Mercy Man is the model citizen. Yet one day it goes wrong and Sylar finds the game isn't so fun. He wants a new hero to battle but a certain crush is distracting
1. The Beginning

**A/N:** Eeee, nervous! Ehem, so, hello - it's Lex again, except this time with a multi-chaptered fic! Naturally, that means it will be completely and utterly ludicrous in nature. Hehe.

This is a Heroes, Sylaire-style adaption of the movie 'Megamind'. I'd recommend watching it if you haven't so that you 1), catch all the callbacks to the movie canon, and 2), can simply enjoy a cute, funny animated movie that's a little more geared to adult humor than most animated movies ;)

Alright, now a little note about how this work has been adapted from the movie:

_The first major shift of canon divergence happens after chapter 3. If you've seen the movie, you'll notice I kept mostly near-verbatim scenes from the movie up until that point._

_This work will focus more on the relationship of Sylaire (or, Roxanne/Megamind, I guess) than it did in the movie. Like, a lot more. This is written as a Sylaire story with the crack-y benefits of a Megamind AU._

_Sylar isn't blue or possessing a large head but he does have an equivalent feature of mocking - his eyebrows. I explain Luke's differences from Minion in the story._

Aaaand everything else of relevance will be put in later, probably at the end of its related chapter, because SPOILERS! *rubs hands together* Now on with the fic!

*awkward pause*

Oh and leave a review/critique, perchance? This is my first AU adaption so feedback is hiiiiighly wished for! Like, I will give you a virtual hug. Which is, you know, virtual, but I mean, a stranger coming up to you and hugging you is a little weird, right? Yeah ;)

(This is also being cross-posted at AO3, by the way!)

**Disclaimer: I live vicariously through other people's works and have no shame in admitting that. That pretty much sums up all this disclaimer needs to be.**

* * *

><p><em>I had a fairly standard childhood. I came from what you might call a broken home. Literally broken. My home planet was destroyed by a black hole, force already beginning to crush it by the time I was beamed off. I was eight days old at the time and still living with my parents. Hah, how sad is that? Clearly it was time to move on, no matter if the black hole came or not.<em>

_My mother, a dark-haired woman with gentle eyes, swept me up from my crib in a hurry that day. I didn't know her very well but I knew my father even less. I saw him, what, two days of my life? My memories of that instance are more focused on him than anything else. Pathetic._

_"Here is your minion. He will take care of you," I recall my father saying. My mother didn't seem particularly pleased at the metal ball with an electronic voice coming out of it sitting in my lap, at least not until my father said it was supposed to take care of me. I was moving on — I didn't need a babysitter! Especially not one that seemed to be just a machine._

_"And here's your binky," my mother had said with a pat on the head. My father pressed a button and the protective shield over the pod lowered. "Oh, my sweet boy, you are destined toward—"_

_I didn't hear the end of that last part, but it sounded important. Nevermind. I was off to discover this so-called destiny, anyway._

_It turns out a kid from the Rock squadron, a series of planets behind my own that were also being destroyed, had the exact same idea. That was the day I met Mr. Eagle Scout — and our glorious rivalry was born!_

_It wasn't long before we both reached and entered Earth's atmosphere. Mr. Eagle Scout's pod was faster than mine but he took a different route and for a minute, I was relieved. He was insufferable! Minion's ball form rolled in my hands a bit as he spoke, alerting me to an exciting prospect ahead. A gigantic, sprawling mansion that was lit up like a beacon._

_Could this be what I was destined for? A dream life filled with luxury and the best of everything that one could ever have?_

_Mr. Eagle Scout appeared out of nowhere then, his stronger pod hitting mine out of the way as he slid smoothly into the house. Well then! Apparently not! Even fate picked its favorites, but that was no big deal. A much different fate awaited me, one where I would fit in perfectly._

_It turned out to be a lovely little place to call home. Its official name, though, was 'Mercy City Prison: for the criminally gifted' and no matter where I went after, I would continue to return to it._

_I guess if my home planet wasn't destroyed, I would probably go back there too. Anyway, we're getting off track._

_That place had some of the most honest people inside of its walls that I have ever known. They taught me the differences between right and wrong and encouraged me in all of my inventions. A few were used to test escape attempts, but when the Warden took away all of my tools, they all signed a piece of paper saying they wouldn't try that again. And so the experimentations were allowed to continue and oh was it fun!_

_Mr. Eagle Scout, on the other hand, had life handed to him on a silver platter. Everything he wanted was an ask away. Even things he didn't have to ask for that were simply innately him, like the power of flight, invulnerability, and great hair. It had a mind of its own, that hair._

_It was after a few years and with some time off for good behavior that I was given an opportunity to better myself through learning at a strange place called school. It was also there that I once again ran into Mr. Eagle Scout and learned of that nickname to give him. Unfortunately, he had already amassed a large army of soft-headed groupies that adored that particular insult and backed him up in any way they could._

_He bought their affection with showmanship and extravagant gifts of deliciousness, like popcorn. So I decided that I too would make this popcorn pop and win over those mindless drones. I stayed up into the early morning hours for a week straight perfecting another robotic suit for Minion, who had since adopted the name Luke and, with the camera eyes I managed to make him, was now trying out various hologrammed faces._

_But back to the main event. This time, the suit was completed with a laser!_

_Things at the demonstration of it, however, went... less smooth than I had hoped. The school nearly caught on fire. But then Mr. Eagle Scout jumped into action with the fire extinguisher and got a gold star on the chest for it._

_That's when I learned a very hard lesson. Good receives all the praise and adulation while perceived evil is sent for quiet time in the corner._

_As you can see, fitting in wasn't really an option. While they were learning the 'Itsy Bitsy Spider', all smashed in beside one another on the reading time cushions, I learned how to dehydrate animate objects, like cockroaches, and rehydrate them at will over at the craft table with only Luke for company._

_Some days it felt like it was just me and Luke against the world. No matter how hard I tried, I was always the odd man out, the last one picked. The one deemed a screw up, black sheep, bad boy. If I tried to defend myself from, say, those hard red rubber balls that were thrown around as a 'sport', I got in trouble. It's not as if I intended for the forcefield to bounce the balls into the windows of the school and hit the teacher!_

_But back to the corner I went while Mr. Eagle Scout got yet another gold star. They practically made up his whole shirt._

_It was on a similar day to that when I found myself in the corner again, only this time with a new thought. Was this my destiny? As if a lightbulb went off in my head, I rapidly thought over the idea, intensely considering what the rest of my life was like. Maybe it was. Being bad is the one thing I'm good at and the one thing I am expected to show._

_Then, it hit me. If I was the bad boy, then I was going to be the baddest one of them all!_

_I was destined to be a super villain and Mr. Eagle Scout and I were destined to be rivals. The die had been cast and so began an enduring, epic, lifelong career; and I loved it!_

_Our battles quickly became more elaborate. He would win some; I would almost win others. He took the name Mercy Man; defender of Mercity. I decided to pick something a little more humble, and named after my favorite watch — Sylar; incredibly handsome criminal genius with normal- sized eyebrows!_

_But, nothing stays the same for forever. That too was another lesson I would have to learn the hard way. _


	2. Capture Is An Illusion

Sylar spun in his lone allotted chair almost idly.

There was nothing else to do until Luke began the next phase of their plan. Now all that was left was finding some enjoyment in the bolted-to-the-floor spinning chair in this circular room with a television that wasn't working, again, and walls painting scenes of joyful, childish-style fields of flowers in primary colors.

It was depressing.

He stilled, cocking his head. Footsteps. He grinned. He recognized those steps; this room wasn't exactly padded for sound. He jumped down from the chair and slid under the viewing window on the door seconds before it was uncovered, the chair left spinning slowly in his wake.

A few seconds passed.

"Hey! Where is he?!"

Sylar couldn't resist this mundane pleasure; he popped up to stand at full height. "Boo!"

Noah Bennet, Warden of Mercy City Prison, made a startled sound of protest and Sylar laughed.

"Good morning, Warden!" He greeted in a sing-song voice before lazily lounging back on the chair. "I have great news for you and the rest of the city. I'm a changed man and I'm ready to re- enter society as a contributing citizen."

Bennet was unimpressed. "You're a villain, Sylar; you'll always be one. You'll never change and you'll never leave here."

He smirked. "Same old, same old. You're fun."

"You actually received something through the mail today," Bennet continued on smoothly, holding up a small gift-wrapped box. Sylar leaned forward expectantly while he opened it, revealing a watch. His favorite watch. "It's from Mercy Man. 'To count every second of your 85 life sentences.' Well, I never thought of Mercy Man as the gloating type but he does have nice taste in watches. I think I'll keep it until you get out."

Sylar pretended to not be so affronted by the momentary stealing. It was necessary. "Before you leave, can you give me time? I don't want to be late for the opening of the Mercy Man museum."

Bennet lifted it up as he slipped it onto his wrist. "Look at that — you're going to miss it by several thousand years. Too bad."

"I am?" His smirk widened to a shark-like grin and he watched the window close back over as Bennet walked away. Now all he had to do was count the minutes instead of the hours. And then everything would go according to plan. He began to spin the chair again.

* * *

><p>The downtown square was filled to the brim with one massive, jovial crowd of people and Claire found herself on the edge of it, where a side street met the one-way that ran around the large reflecting pool. Eric gave a thumbs-up and she began.<p>

"Happy Mercy Man Day, Mercy City! It's a bright day in our beautiful downtown, where we're here at Central Square to honor Mercy Man. His empathy is like an ocean surrounding our island of citizenry. For years he's been watching us with his super vision, saving us and caring for us with his quick action. Today we have the opportunity to give something back.

"This is Claire Petrelli, reporting live from the dedication of the Mercy Man museum."

She counted two beats, hearing the reporters sitting at desks back in the studio bidding her farewell and promising further coverage after the break, and then she make a throat slitting motion to Eric. He flicked off the recording and lowered the camera from his shoulder. "The stuff they make you read on air, Blondie — it's crazy."

Claire furrowed her brows above an awkward smile, trying not to take that personally. "I wrote that piece myself, Eric."

She got her confirmation of the intended condescension when his eyes widened and he began to verbally back pedal. She twisted the microphone in her hands, longing to finish this up and anonymously go join the crowds of happy citizens. "What I was trying to say is that I can't believe that in this day and age, they let you speak such elegant poetry on the news."

"Good save, Eric."

"Why don't we go grab a coffee and hang out after this?"

Claire set the microphone in the back of the van, next to where he was starting to pack up the camera. Their next shot would be from the other side of the square; she wanted to get all angles. "We can't leave — come on, it's time to get into the Mercy Man Day spirit! Don't you want to participate in any of the activities?"

"Well if I were Mercy Man, Sylar wouldn't be kidnapping you all the time. I cannot feel very excited about him if that's the first thing I would do and he still hasn't."

"That's sweet, Eric. But it's okay; really. And I'm not kidnapped now, am I?" Claire smiled as she thought about the recurring situation. She didn't mind the whole thing anymore, not when it hardly lasted a couple hours and only mildly inconvenienced her day once every couple of months, but it was nice to hear something so matter-of-fact and protective from an outside perspective.

There wasn't much Mercy Man could do about it, since Sylar was so determined, and Sylar never

actually hurt her or even manhandled her. Okay, the first couple times had been emotionally traumatic because being on the receiving end of things like chloroform are not fun, but she adjusted. She was good at that.

Eric continued, though. "I'm serious. I would keep a constant eye on you in case he tried anything — like a dingo watches a human baby." She winced. "Okay, that sounded— that sounded a little strange."

"Uh, a little bit, yes."

He climbed into the van to put the camera case back, amongst other things. "See, now you're making a weird face and that's making me feel weird. I'm only thinking of your well being here, Blondie. The point is—"

Claire folded her arms, wishing that Eric sometimes knew when to stop. He didn't have the greatest social filter. Her wishing didn't matter, however, as she felt a prick against her neck one second and then she was faced with blackness in the next.

* * *

><p>Sylar heard commotion outside of his door just shy of eighteen minutes later. He quickly ducked behind the chair. The door opened a minute later, two guards manhandling Bennet — who was morphed to appear as Sylar — and pushing him into the chair. Sylar kept as much watch on them as he could in the precarious situation, managing to reach out and steal his watch back when the guards were busy with Bennet's feet restraints.<p>

Finally. It felt good to have this gem back.

"No, you idiots! He's tricked you."

The guards looked up at their warden's words but they were too late. Sylar was already at the door behind them. "You were right." He turned the dials of the watch and in a second he was morphed into the Warden. He laughed. "I'll always be the villain!"

Sylar shut the door on them, striding down the halls confidently. He fit right in by just acting like his usual self. Who knew. He waved to the gate guard outside before stepping up to the sidewalk curb, waiting for Luke. To his surprise, his minion was already there, rolling the passenger side window of the invisible car down.

"Why hello, sir! Need a lift?"

He smirked. "Yes I do, you reliable minion."

Sylar slammed the door shut behind him, rolling his eyes at Luke's giddiness, even as he felt the same within him. The gate guard ran into the street when they sped off, realizing too late that something was wrong.

"You're free!"

"Nice wok sending me the watch, Luke," Sylar praised.

"You got it, boss!"

"Is Claire Petrelli in the back?"

Luke's hologram head nodded, appearance becoming blurred for a moment. "Bound and unconscious."

"Good. Our plan is working perfectly."

* * *

><p>With most of the people in the city either at the downtown square or in their homes watching feed from the before mentioned square, Sylar and Luke made it to their evil lair on the edge of the city in a third of the time it usually took.<p>

It was placed in the warehouse district, lest anyone be nearby to find a man with brooding large eyebrows, and a robot with a hologram face for a head, suspicious. Not to mention the short blonde woman they pulled out of the previously-invisible car's trunk. That, however, was done inside of the evil lair's garage, so it didn't actually count.

Luke threw her over his shoulder as Sylar rushed inside to change out of his disgusting orange prison jumper and into his more appropriate black garb and cape.

He appeared back in the center of the vast warehouse, finding Luke easily. "How do I look, minion? Do I look evil?"

"Disgustingly horrifying, sir," Luke confirmed with an approving grin.

"Perfect." Sylar glanced to Claire's form as he rubbed his hands together in power-hungry anticipation. He was caught off guard when he thoughts wandered. He liked that dress; it was flattering on her. He cleared his throat a brief second later when he noticed his minion waiting eagerly. "Now to the laughing!"

Luke followed his lead quickly as they bound up the steps to the auditorium, laughing obnoxiously loud in order to wake Claire Petrelli. It was always how the game worked and when she made the first coming-to groan, Sylar grinned.

"Places, places."

He sat in the swivel chair at the console, whistling for one of his floating, cat-shaped bot

inventions to come over. It purred in his grip when he pulled it into his lap, facing away from where Luke was setting Claire down in the wooden straight-back chair they'd placed under a garish spotlight.

It had been months since they last did this and Sylar missed it. He could barely push back the excitement from showing but then he smoothed his fingers over his eyebrows and, just like that, he set his face in a neutral, borderline menacing mask. He was ready.

"Would it kill you to wash the bag, Eyebrows?" Was the first thing out of her mouth when he heard Luke pull said bag off her head.

Sylar spun around dramatically to face her, ignoring the earlier nickname jab. She raised an eyebrow. "Miss Petrelli. We meet again."

"Well you kind of kidnapped me, so, yeah."

"You can scream all you want, Claire!" He said before realizing how much annoyance filled her comment. He faltered briefly before continuing. "No one can hear you!"

She yawned.

He scowled to his minion. "Why isn't she screaming? You're supposed to be helping." Luke bristled as if he'd been slapped. "Uh, Miss Petrelli—"

"Like this," Sylar demonstrated with a theatre-esque scream, making a whole production out of it as he gripped onto the bot in his arms tightly and threw his head back. He shrugged after. "But that's a weak girl's scream."

The cat bot, in retaliation to unwanted squeezing, chose that moment to bite his arm with its metal jaw. Sylar truly screamed this time and none too proudly. He shook off the bot with a glare and it went flying away.

"That's much better," Claire observed with a taunting grin before swiveling her head around. "Huh. This is a new room. You know, I've been meaning to ask — is there some kind of geeky super villain website where you two get the Tesla coils and blinking dials? They can't all do something. You're too pathetic for that."

"Actually, most of it comes from an outlet store in—" Luke began. Sylar objected, horrified.

"Don't answer that!"

His minion seemed to ponder that before whispering, "Romania."

Sylar groaned. "Stop! She's using her investigative reporting skills on your weak-willed mind in order to find out all our tricks." He stood as he talked, sauntering over and placing his hands on the arms of the chair she was in. Luke, meanwhile, huffed at the allegation of stupidity. He was an artificial intelligence life form, after all. Sylar smirked at her. "Such tricks won't work on me—"

Claire mimicked his leaning forward, adopting a mock smirk of her own. "Wow, talk slower, these compliments are really making my day."

"—Temptress!"

She threw her head back and laughed. "Honestly, Sylar, what secrets could I find? You're predictable in the worst ways."

"Predictable?" He repeated with a shout. Turning, he swiftly stepped back over to the console and grabbed a lever. "Do you call this predictable?!"

Paneling around her chair revealed a water pit underneath where alligators laid amongst bright plastic toys. At the intrusion, they got up and began to snap their jaws. Luke managed to step to the side in time. Claire pursed her lips at the alligators. "Yeah, I was thinking about this on the way over. Actually thought it would be sharks — are those more expensive?"

'What's this?!"

A machine gun came out of the wall, rolling its barrel dramatically as it warmed up. Claire didn't even look over at it. "Yep. Boring."

"This?!"

A spinning series of blades came down from the ceiling, whirling around her. "Okay that's just juvenile — it's literally in every boy's dreams. Do you still wear matching pajama sets? Tell me you do!"

"The horror!" Sylar announced as one of the blades came out, taking off a strand of her long hair.

Claire actually reacted this time; she glared at him. "Oh come on! I just got a haircut."

He so did not feel about about that. Not one bit. "What does this one do?!" He asked instead, pushing a yellow button.

"Flames?" She asked before the jet began to work properly. Then she just wore a smug expression framed by her new shoulder-length blonde do. "I told you. Predictable." He hit the button again to turn it off and, facing the console, face-palmed himself.

"Let's stop wasting time and call your Eagle Scout boyfriend already. Minion!" "Right away." Luke joined him at the console.

Sylar pretended to be focusing in great consternation, ignoring Claire's own bit-off, "He's not— forget it."


	3. Going Through The Motions

The Mercy Man Day celebrations were just warming up. The sun was at its peak position in the sky, the curtain around the statue in the new museum was falling to reveal chiseled magnificence, and the crowds were cheering at a deafening tone as Mercy Man flew around thanking people, shaking hands, and kissing babies.

Naturally, it was the perfect moment forartificial black clouds to descend, cloaking the city in gloom.

The mayor, Nathan Petrelli, stepped off to the side of the stage as the man initially raised as his brother sped up to take a hero's rightful place in the middle of the stage. He watched as Peter examined the whole area. They both spotted the cat bots rising in the air from amongst and around the crowd at the same time. Two of them in particular suddenly lit up. A video feed was projected onto the separate walls of the new museum that curved and faced the stage.

Nathan groaned to himself. The city had worked hard to put this museum in place. If Sylar destroyed it, they would be out tens of millions of dollars. And while the capture of Sylar was guaranteed, the escape and lack of refund from the state was ensured, too.

"Congratulations on your museum, Mercy Man. Wonderful use of everyone's time."

"Sylar!" Peter didn't have to say anything back. The crowd was already boo'ing on his behalf.

"Oh, what fun."

Nathan rolled his eyes. Peter spoke. "I should've known you'd try to ruin everyone's celebration. What do you want?"

"By the end of the day, I'll do more than crash it! Today is a day you and Mercity will not forget!"

"It's pronounced Mercy City," Peter corrected.

Sylar gestured with his hands in disinterest. "Yes, well; potato, tomato."

That hardly made sense, but it didn't matter. Nathan pursed his lips. "Why drag this out?" Peter asked. "We all know how this ends — with you locked up in your circular cell. Again."

"Wow, so scary. I'm shaking in my custom-made, baby seal leather boots!" The crowd's boos turned into shocked gasps. "You, Mercy Man, will leave Mercity while you still have the chance or this will be the last you see of Claire Petrelli!"

One of the two projected screens changed and the visual of it became of the petite blonde, still in the black and white dress she had done her report in earlier. Nathan clenched one of his fists. His daughter was always being dragged into these games and he was sick of it. For all accounts, however, it was the lesser of two evils. He had to remember that, even with Peter's earlier words in his head.

A gentle hand rested on his back; he knew it was his wife before he looked. "She'll be alright," Heidi murmured reassuringly.

"In order to stop me," Sylar continued over Peter's threats, "you need to find me first!" "We're at the abandoned observatory!" Claire called out.

Sylar's face suddenly deflated into panic as he looked to her. "No!" He turned back, waving his hands at the camera. "No, we're not! Don't listen to her; she's insane!"

"Says the criminal!" Could be heard from Claire behind him. It was droned out by the various degrees of yelling from the crowd and the rumble that went through the ground as Peter cast off.

Nathan sighed.

* * *

><p>"Mercy Man approaching, sir."<p>

"Hah!" Claire mocked smugly.

"Ha-hah!" Sylar threw back snidely.

Claire's laugh wavered as a sinking feeling filled her gut.

He came around to her chair, smirking wide and not bothering to continue trying to one-up her with the expressions of joy. One of his hands braced on her arm rest as he leaned against the corner backing of the chair. With him moved out of her direct line of sight, the monitors were fully revealed and she could see that one of them was of the abandoned observatory.

Mercy Man came into view, fist stretched out, and crashed through the domed ceiling. Instinctively, Claire ducked her head to the side. It was all for naught. Sylar chuckled and she jerked away from him. She was still as defiant as ever and he loved it. He leaned forward to speak over her shoulder, against her ear.

"Oh, Claire-bear. After all our talks about understanding one another, did you really think I would call you insane in front of the city without an ulterior motive? Think of how that would reflect on me." He stood abruptly, walking back around to the camera that was set up for him. "Ready the death ray, minion!"

Luke pulled a lever. "Readying."

Claire looked between them, horrified. "Hey! No!"

"You didn't honestly believe I was stupid enough to set up in the only known observatory in the city, did you Mercy Man?" Sylar tsk'ed to the newly occupied screen. Oh, he had the hero good this time. At no other point had one of their plans gotten this far so flawlessly. There was going to be a golden defeating battle this time, he could taste it. "You've fallen right into my trap, old friend."

* * *

><p>From Claire Petrelli's vantage point, she could see that one of Sylar's beloved cat bots was inside of the observatory with Mercy Man, projecting a screen of its own. They could look right into the other's eyes. So why wasn't Mercy Man taking this seriously? He only held his arms at his sides, chin up high, and continued to bicker with the villain whom she was trapped in the same room with.<p>

"Hey!" Claire protested again. That caught attention.

"I'm coming to save you, Claire!"

"Oh yeah?" Sylar asked, menacing look taking over his previously smirk-happy face. "That's only if you can withstand the full concentrated force of the sun! Fire, minion!" He pointed to where Luke was still messing with the controls. He was the epitome of a person drunk on power.

Claire's green eyes swiveled over to look at Luke, sagging back against the chair when she saw confirmation of the villain team's next failure. The childish looking progress bar on one of the screens was barely at halfway, shifting between the colors red and yellow. Yeah, that wasn't changing any time soon.

Sylar stomped over after an awkward minute of Mercy Man and the rest of Mercy City staring at him, unimpressed. He and his minion began bickering in stage whispers she did not bother attempting to decode.

"Can I go home now?" She asked with a bored tone.

Luke held a finger up in a waiting gesture but Sylar spun away from him, head in one of his hands. He didn't seem to realize he had paced near her. "I told you to test this and have it ready in advance. I reminded you countless times," he groaned to himself.

"Why do you always blame me?" Luke asked, offended and evidently a bit hurt.

Claire huffed, pulling against the cloth bindings on her wrists. Another little thing they had learned between the first and second go-around. Really helped combat any annoying bruising she might have gotten later. It was also yet another detail that led to her feeling comfortable enoguh to say, "Your plan is failing, okay? Just admit it and let me go. Maybe Mercy Man won't get you right away this time; I don't even know where we are!"

Luke snorted. "Yeah, good luck getting a compromise from him."

Sylar finally reacted. "Whose side are you on?!"

"The losing one," she muttered under her breath.

"Thank you!"

Claire winced at the glare she received from Sylar because of Luke's appreciation of her jab. She reverted back to her brave face, though, no longer feeling any fear regarding the situation. Mercy Man clearly wasn't going to die any time soon and the only threat posed to her was the strain on her back from this terrible position.

She cocked her head at Sylar from where he stood beside her. "So any chance you could stamp that 'frequent kidnapping' card of mine?" It was in her wallet, back with her purse, probably still in the news casting van, but— hey, there was always the possibility that they had gotten that too.

Luke sometimes got a little eager in his kidnappings and had grabbed some of her things before. Only when he had thought they would be needed, of course, and she had always gotten them back.

But still. It was a pattern.

"We cancelled that promotion after the rapids incident, remember?" He taunted. She shrugged. Admittedly, she had forgotten about that, something definitely out of choice. Luke and rushing rivers didn't do so well. She'd honestly, somehow, managed to feel bad about that short-circuiting incident. It wasn't like Luke was a bad person — or, er, robot. More than anything, he seemed incredibly loyal to his insane friend and she couldn't fault him for that.

She was loyal to her insane family, after all.

Claire smiled mockingly. "So, that makes it same time next month, huh?"

Luke was already walking over to the knock out gas tank and mask when a rather loud metallic bang cut through the near-silent air. The banging had been going on for a couple minutes but she had automatically tuned it out, assuming it was another experiment of theirs failing elsewhere in the building. She looked up at the screens.

"Mercy Man!"

* * *

><p>"What's he doing?" Sylar asked his minion even as they both rushed to crowd around the monitors. The sounds of empathetic fear amongst the crowd in downtown Mercy City burst loudly from the other monitors. Irritated, he grabbed hold of the volume dial and turned it all the way down to mute.<p>

"Stop it!" Claire shouted from behind them.

He bit down on the retort of 'I'm not doing anything'. The whole city was watching. He wasn't going to leave the impression of being weak, even if the truthful reply would be simply that — the truth.

Mercy Man was being thrown about by a seemingly invisible force inside of the abandoned observatory. He was being thrown back first into walls and head first into the ground, over and over again. If Sylar was not intimately aware of just how invincible the hero on the screen was, he would be cringing right now.

Instead, he was peering at the screen curiously. Luke left his side with a mutter. "You finally win!" Mercy Man managed to gasp out.

Sylar's brows scrunched up in confusion to the point of looking like a unibrow. He caught the reflection in the metal on the wall across from him. It made him straighten and adopt a mostly serious expression. "Yes! But for audience clarification—" He gestured to the screens that displayed Central Square and the crowd there. "—which win are you talking about?"

"Um, Sylar?" Luke asked with a timid voice. He barely heard him, eager for the hero's reply.

"My weakness! You've... found it. The copper... in the walls... pipes... it drains... my powers!"

Sylar couldn't help it. He shuffled on his feet, narrowing his eyes. "Copper?! You're joking!"

A bright red light flashed throughout the room once and then Luke was jumping away from the other area of the console. Sylar swiveled his head in confusion before his eyes widened like saucers. The death ray countdown!

"No!" Claire protested.

Through the portion of the makeshift dome of theirs that was opened in order to see the real abandoned observatory across the river, miles away, they all watched as the blindingly bright beam shot down. It seemed to still for a moment before the building burst apart. The video feed was immediately severed, screen going solid blue. But that wasn't noticed for quite a while.

Accompanying the explosion was an obvious shock wave. Sylar and Luke, however, hadn't anticipated how powerful it would be. Even this many miles away, Luke's robotic form easily had its feet lose stability on the ground and he fell on his side. Sylar managed better, turning and shielding himself. His cape flew up over his face annoyingly.

Claire reacted in a dozen different ways simultaneously. She squeaked, as if she wanted to shout again but was stunned speechless. The blast made her turn her head, as did the light. Even then, she leaned forward in the chair. Searching for a way to metaphorically run across the way, into the flames, and rescue the city's hero.

Sylar pushed his cape back into its place at his back as he lowered his eyes from her heartbroken expression. He turned around. Luke was picking himself back up. The minion was the only one smiling. "I'm not as smart as you, sir, but I don't think he could survive that."

"Well." Sylar swallowed. "Let's not get our hopes up yet, minion," he said half-heartedly. A tense minute passed.

"Mercy Man!" Claire half-rejoiced, half-sighed before either of the two in front of her had a chance to alert the other. Out of the billowing smoke around the explosion of concrete and metal came the trademark white cape of the city's hero.

"Of course," Sylar commented almost softly. Mercy Man was going to rise from the destruction again, as he always did. Sylar's plans would amount to nothing. He would be sent back to prison with a decently matched fight to show for it. And so would the cycle begin again.

This time there was the difference of the hero — and thus the police department and city — discovering his evil lair, raiding it, and leaving Luke back at the drawing board. Which would leave Sylar in prison longer than usual, too.

His expression turned grim. "Mercy Man!" Luke was already bolting for the door.

"You're just great!" Sylar called to him sarcastically while side-stepping around the control console in a sort of defense.

The caped figure landed on the ground in a heap of ashen dust. And then proceeded to stay there.

It was all wrong. He was flatter than Mercy Man, too short for another. And he wasn't getting up. Sylar approached slowly. "Don't!" Luke warned. He continued stepping forward. One look to Claire, who was left helplessly sitting in front of the caped figure, told him all he needed to know. He took hold of the cape and pulled it off anyway.

A charred skeleton was all that survived of Mercy Man. Sylar took in a deep breath, unsure of how to feel about this. Only one thing was clear — shock.

"You did it," Luke marveled. Then he found his enthusiasm, throwing his arms up in the air. "You did it!"

Sylar's eyes lifted from the skeleton, only to be immediately met with Claire Petrelli's. Tear streaks ran down her cheeks, voice hoarse. He dreaded the words before she said them. "You... You killed him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Aaand here we reach the point of canon divergence! The next chapter will veer much more in the direction of Sylaire and some angst, of course. Can't live without the angst!

Unfortunately that chapter won't be posted for a few days, week at most. Needs another wee edit~

So, thoughts? :)


	4. Reset Button, Anyone?

**A/N:** Okay so this chapter was a couple days over the week-only goal but I had to write the rough draft of the next four or so chapters before deciding whether to include the Nathan scene in this one or scrap it.

Also, RESEARCH FACTS!, midazolam is a 'sedative hypnotic that causes relaxation and sleep' so it's not a made up word ;) I spend my time on weird fact checking, mmk?

Major thanks to those that have reviewed! Made my days~ Please comment on this one too, if you can; tell me what you think of the direction? I know this chapter was more angsty than cracky but it's for a good cause, I promise. Or, I hope. Only you guys can judge that :D

* * *

><p>Dusk fell over the next couple of hours and the three of them — Sylar, Luke, and Claire — remained where they were until then. Their eyes were glued unwillingly on the scene unfolding across the river.<p>

After the explosion, while it did take more than a few minutes for the city to realize what disaster had just unfolded, the emergency personnel response was still quick. Police quarantined the area. Several different firefighter crews worked on putting out the flames and dissipating the thick smoke. The mayor and his entourage had shown up to oversee the proceedings. Concerned citizens were kept at bay.

The way the evil lair's fake observatory was set up, it was situated inside of the warehouse building they used. Luke had rushed to pull the switch for the walls to close together when the police started to arrive. They didn't want the little structure inside to be seen. When his minion did that, Sylar also disabled the screen feeds. They had begun to alternate between shots of protesting citizens and sobbing fits.

It made him feel pained on their behalf. Did they have no power for themselves? Apparently not. They were now all freaking out about what to do since their hero had apparently fallen.

It wasn't a situation that Sylar wanted, either. His minion kept looking at him because of that, of course. Hovering until Sylar would show joy and do his victory call to the cat bots. That would be some time off yet as his expression unknowingly mirrored that of Claire's.

When the sky was dark, the fire was out, and people were beginning to leave the area, Luke folded his robotic arms. "I don't think even he could've survived that, sir."

"We don't know that yet."

"Yes we do," Claire was the one to say. She sounded defeated. He looked over his shoulder at her. She was slumped against the chair, cheeks dry of tears with half-lidded eyes fixed ahead through the window. "He would have flown out by now if he was okay…. If he was alive."

Sylar didn't react beyond looking back to the rubble of a building across the river. Luke cleared his throat before leaning near him. "Uh, shouldn't we let her go now?"

He hadn't been thinking about that. He blinked and nodded, neutral mask sliding over his previously long face. "Get the blindfold." Luke left to do just that and Sylar walked over, kneeling behind Claire to untie her wrists. "You'll be dropped off a block from your apartment."

She rested her chin on her shoulder, glancing to him from the corner of her eye. "This is a first, isn't it? Mercy Man always did this when you were knocked out in the corner."

"I wasn't always beaten up," Sylar protested hotly.

"No." She smiled without emotion. "Sometimes he had to throw you in jail first or get you restrained. Do you know how boring that is? To sit tied up for hours. I never worried that you would kill him. I was just… annoyed. At this game."

Sylar got the distinct impression that she was not necessarily talking to him anymore. She was talking aloud because it was easier. Made her feel better, maybe. He wasn't anyone's therapist but he stayed mum instead of stopping her. It seemed like the right thing to do.

And when did he ever do the right thing? He was the villain. His job was the do the wrong thing, the bad thing. To destroy things and disrupt peoples' lives. He slipped off the last knot of the cloth and pulled it off her hands. His fingers brushed one of her wrists. That, more than the cloth, seemed to alert her to her now free state.

Claire stood, hands coming up to massage her wrists automatically. Instinctual, even if there weren't even any pink marks. She stepped forward to the window and Sylar stood, staying where he was. He tilted his head at her curiously. "What's the point of any of it? Congratulations, you killed him. But you'll never rule this city; we won't let you."

Luke came back then and approached her with the bandana. "Miss Petrelli—"

She turned her head, looked at the thing thoroughly unimpressed, and then sighed. "Can't I be knocked out again? Isn't that easier?" She asked in an exhausted tone.

Luke frowned and looked between her and Sylar. His boss shrugged and then nodded. It was her decision. Who was he to stop her? Giving her another shot of the midazolam was the wrong thing to do. He was the villain, no matter if he had a hero to battle against or not.

His minion grabbed a pre-filled syringe Claire winced right before it went into her arm. Luke went to throw it away but Sylar stayed. It took half a minute to start affecting her. He caught her when she lost her ability to stand, staring at her last look of confusion before she passed out. She looked peaceful like this. No bared teeth or taunting smiles. No fiery eyes, either, though he wasn't adverse to those….

* * *

><p>On the other side of town, Nathan walked into his family's estate mansion. He rid of his suit jacket somewhere near the foyer, rolling his sleeves up as he headed towards the kitchen. He noticed one of his security was still in the doorway when he was filling up a glass of water. "Send someone to check my daughter's apartment," he ordered. The man left.<p>

Nathan sipped the glass at the sink. He wanted a drink. Something that would burn the back of his throat and distract him. But he couldn't because he had promised Heidi he would cut back. She thought that him going out with the buddies — other somewhat local politicians and influential business men — to drink a couple nights a week was bad for the family.

He didn't like it, but he could see where she was coming from. He didn't have a problem. Coming home around twice a week drunk, though, wasn't a good impression to leave on Simon and Monty.

Nathan left the half-empty glass on the kitchen counter and continued on down the hallway to the stairs. He was drained and knew that the stern demeanor his father had instilled in him was the only thing keeping him from breaking down in grief. That was coming later.

He stopped in front of the foot of the staircase. The large living room was lit only with the fireplace's dancing flames. It was eerie. Naturally, the form sitting on the couch would be his mother then. He walked further into the room instead, dropping onto a chair near her.

Angela was gulping rather than sipping from a red wine glass. He couldn't tell if the near-empty bottle sitting on the ground had been opened earlier and re-corked or if it was new.

"Ma, you should go to bed."

She took another drink and licked her lips. "No. I'm staying up until there is confirmation."

Nathan leaned his elbows on his knees, frowning. "I can confirm it, Ma. Trust me."

"Did you scour the building?" She asked sharply.

"…No."

"Then I'll wait."

He stared at her for another couple of minutes. He looked away when he saw a shadow near the staircase. Heidi was there in her robe, motioning him to join her. Nathan stood, clasping a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Goodnight, Ma."

"Mm," was all she replied, her eyebrows only raising in recognition of his parting presence. The dismissal felt like a slap to the face.

* * *

><p>Claire woke up in her apartment to bright sunlight trying to burn black spots into her retinas. She squinted and rolled over, adjusting her vision in the shade. Why were her blinds open? She always made sure to close them before going to bed. Having a bedroom that faced east only, you know, kind of made that vital.<p>

As her senses came to life, she became aware of her dry mouth and sore limbs. Had she gone out drinking or something? No, that did not make sense. Claire would have been doing a broadcast most of the time for the Mercy Man Day celebra—

The blonde bolted up in bed. She immediately shoved the covers aside and headed for her laptop. It was on the kitchen table, where she left it the morning before. Claire opened the screen and went to the local news station website. Her memories had already been flooding back but right there, all across the page, was her confirmation.

Sylar had crashed the event. He'd kidnapped her. He'd killed Mercy Man.

And she was safe in her apartment the next day, as she always had been before. That was of no comfort. The shock was gone and now angry tears filled her eyes. How dare he. How dare he hurt the city like this! How dare you kill an honorable man like this! A hero!

She used her landline to call the news station as she dressed, ignoring the recognizable handwritten note next to it that said for her to call her father. She was already angry at one person, she didn't want to get worked up about another's right now. "Mercy City Press Agency, this is Cindy, how may I help you?"

"Cindy, it's Claire Petrelli. Can you patch me through to Hal?"

"Oh, Claire! Yeah, uh, hold on—"

The line beeped and then went silent. Claire cradled the phone in the crook her neck as she tied up long hair in a pony tail. She didn't have time for it now, or a shower. Mercy Man wasn't here anymore. There was no one else to stop Sylar's evil plans.

"Claire?!" Hal's voice carried over the phone loudly. She scurried to hold the device an inch away from her ear. "What happened?! Are you okay?!"

"Hal—"

Does Sylar still have you?"

"Hal—"

"Give me a code word, I'll find you and come kick his—"

"Hal!" He finally stopped. "I'm fine. I was let go," she said, looking for her keys now. "But that's not important. I have a lead on Sylar's evil lair and I need your help."


	5. Justice Can Be Bent

**A/N:** This chapter is a little shorter than usual (500 words fewer than the average, actually) but a month accidentally went by without updating and I feel terrible about that! I don't know what else to say except: Life. Yeah. But hey, sickness has kind of left me stir crazy so writing this has become a real kind of therapy! Expect another update soon but I won't give anything definite because that seems to be when I break my promises -_-

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"I'm not going to defend myself to you," Sylar said as he proceeded to do just that.<p>

Luke's holographic nostrils flared and he yanked the cat bot out of Sylar's grasp. "Listen to me," he pleaded. He should have known it would be a lost cause since his boss was always the one to lead, friends first or not.

Sylar took the bot back with a murderous glare. The thing seemed confused for a moment, but reveled in the attention regardless, curling into the human elbow. "What? I'm busy."

"With the bots?" His minion raised an eyebrow.

"Yes! there's a malfunction in their software to fix." He strode off.

Luke followed hastily. "Sir, we should be celebrating! We can do anything we want with the city now! What about raiding city hall?! Shooting cops!"

Sylar's eyes narrowed in exasperation. "The last one was always your idea."

"Okay so maybe I went a little overboard on the secret wish; it doesn't matter—"

"Minion." Sylar stopped in front of him with a warning gaze now. "We'll ransack the city tomorrow."

Instead of persisting after the lack of excuse or demanding to know what his boss would be doing in the meantime, Luke took the answer with giddy excitement and eagerness. His thoughts were already far-gone down that rabbit hole. "Awesome! Do you want me to draw up some plans? I'll get the plans! Oh there will be destruction and mayhem and maybe that radioactive melting gun we've been testing—"

Sylar listened to his minion's voice fade off before the likely unintentional slamming of a door. Luke always became too enthused for his own good, especially when it came to their next big productions. Sylar was usually one to support and encourage that as he focused on his wishes of domination. But right now, he found happiness hard to conjure up.

He was Sylar, though — the great villain of Mercy City. This was just the phase of mourning for the battles he could no longer partake in. All would be normal — no, it would be better than normal — in no time.

* * *

><p>Eric pressed half of his face to the glass. She pretended not to notice the smearing he was causing. "What are you looking for again?"<p>

"A dome. Roof. A dome roof. It has to be around here somewhere!" Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "He's not that clever. And when we find it, we'll nail him to the—"

"You know, blondie—" He turned his head as he talked and caught her eye twitch at the nickname. "—I mean, Claire; we've been driving around for half an hour and the shipping district isn't that big. We would both remember a… dome roof."

"So it's new." Claire rolled to a stop at another intersection, hunching down in the seat a little to look out the front windshield farther. All of the buildings looked the same. They were shades of the gray spectrum and long, with metal roofs. The parking lots were at most a quarter filled up, semis coming and going on the roads a few at a time.

Nothing exactly screamed 'criminal mastermind's lair'.

The blonde sat back and tried to think of what else she had been privy to seeing. Everything pointed to it being the observatory. The city observatory that Sylar had blown up with Mercy Man in it.

"Claire?"

She sighed. "Let's just… drive through one more time? Okay?"

Eric's expression remained the same for a moment before he nodded. "Sure. While you're driving, we can talk about how to kill Sylar. I always—"

"Wait, who said anything about killing?" She asked, distracted for a second while turning left. Claire saw Eric adopted a 'deer caught in the headlights of a car' look when she glanced sideways at him.

"Well— I— Why wouldn't we? He killed Mercy Man! If we lock him up again, what's the point?"

Claire gnawed her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating that. She was not one to advocated for death… but her cameraman-slash-work-partner did have a point. If they locked him up, they would just have to group up together again in a couple months or so to catch him again.

She knew Noah Bennet and the rest at the prison pretty well — especially after all of these kidnapping shenanigans and therefore the political celebrations her father liked to throw afterwards when Sylar was caught. But even they and all the latest technology in the prison couldn't keep Sylar in.

That was just the way it was. And accepting it was probably some form of a cop-out, but Claire was done fighting that.

She licked her lips. "What were you saying?"

"About killing?" Eric shifted in the passenger seat, eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh. Well I always thought it would be fun to string him up like a puppet…."

* * *

><p>Sylar was absolutely, 100% not a stalker. Okay? Alright.<p>

That said, he may have a tendency of following people. It made for good intel for evil plans, he always reasoned. Plus having blackmail for 'just in case' scenarios was always a smart plan. That philosophy had come in handy more than a few times when he and Minion had to get the timing of certain presentations perfected.

He checked out the console again, making sure that the GPS option was disengaged. He had it installed for when Minion was out and about. An easy was to check-in. But he knew that Minion liked to abuse it when keeping an eye on him, too, and Sylar was not about to take the chance of Minion chastising him over this too.

Claire Petrelli and the idiot she always had at her side — Erin, Evan, Eli, something along that vein — were currently sitting outside a 24/7 burger shack Sylar liked the frequent. It was close to their evil lair and they included the right amount of grease without having it drip all over you when you bit down, which was annoyingly common for most restaurants. And they didn't rat him out to cops if he passed them a 100$ bill every time he walked in.

That was always nice for both parties involved.

Wait. Would that mean they would answer the reporter's questions though? That could be an issue.

Sylar leaned on the door jam, peering through the window as the workers inside continued to go about their business. They didn't even cast the two customers another eye, which was just bad service in his mind. But then, it was a fast food place. They were just always so servant-like with him….

Did that mean they were sucking up to him? Now Sylar was disappointed at that thought.

Well, he was until Claire stood up to throw away their trash and once that idiot wasn't in the same eye-line as her, the evil mastermind found it hard to focus on anything but her. She had nice hair, he'd always thought. It was golden and in moments like this — with the wind whipping it around — it sort of formed a halo around her.

The irony in that, really. Oh Claire Petrelli was the golden child when seen by most but he knew what she was. She was a rebel. She chose reporting instead of something prestigious, she went to a community college on her own way, she was hardly ever at the political events Sylar crashed unless she was investigating them.

The woman even badmouthed her father and grandmother to him a few times, when she had been feeling particularly venomous over broken family promises he had no understanding of.

In a way, they were on the same side.

And he kind of wanted to show her that.

"Which is ridiculous," Sylar muttered to himself.

He watched them until they left the fast food joint, headed out of the warehouse district, and instead of following he went back to his evil lair. Like he said, he was not a stalker. He simply followed certain people when they came within his realm of monitoring.

A totally normal, 100% legal thing.

The cat bot in the passenger seat fixed him with a withering glare after a particularly metallic meow. It sounded almost foreboding. "What?" He demanded. It only looked at him, as if reading his thoughts and not approving. "Yes, well, no one asked you." Sylar grimaced to himself as he drove. "I don't know why I ever programmed you bots with emotional components."

It meowed again. He ignored it this time.


End file.
